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by Misfit Minion
Summary: Being a villain seems like a joke when you can never win and while it may not be a perfect retirement for Mojo Jojo, he's learning to deal with it day by day. Until some new upstart of a villain comes to Townville, clawing his way into Mojo's life—making it pretty clear that he has no regard to how Mojo feels about this. And then he starts getting a little too... personal.


**A/N:** It has been... literally a decade since I last wrote any fic! So I'm brushing off the cobwebs, scraping off the rust, and giving it a whirl again, WHOOOO! And it's for a fandom that probably nobody cares about anymore, too! :'D (But what do I know? I haven't been keeping up with the PPG community.) Another note to add is that I don't _think_ this fic is going to be as dark as the summary implies, but, by golly, we'll see! I'm hoping to make this a little more slice-of-life than anything, to tell you the truth. I'm a pretty boring person.

So please: Do let me know what you think! Give me feedback! Tell me what's _wrong_ with my story; point out the grammar, spelling, and punctuation mistakes; tell me if something makes _no sense whatsoever_.

**Additional ****Notes:** This is set in the _original_ PPG universe, more or less, though with some... pretty obvious changes. First off, the girls aren't "bug-eyed freaks". Yeah, yeah, I know, it's not the same, but I _did_ think about that first thing when originally brainstorming this fic and it just... didn't fit with how I imagined things. So basically think normal looking humans. My deviantART (shameless plug lol) Misfit-Minion has one MoBlossom fanart in it called "Pink Kiss" and that's basically how the "style" of this story looks, if you're curious.

And "Tanisha" is the name of a co-worker of mine. She's super sweet and, frankly, just an angel of a human being. So this is me wanting to highlight that in a fanfic for no real reason! XD

**COPYRIGHT: **The Powerpuff Girls and all recognizable characters, setting, etc., are the property of Cartoon Network/Craig McCracken. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The waitress smiled prettily, the glossy peach of her lipstick a bright contrast against her brown skin, and said, "One caramel macchiato fresh off the burner for you, Mr. Mojo! Enjoy!"

He perked up at the delicate clink of china being set down, not quite able to stop the small smile from spreading across his face. Oh, liquid bliss, energy in its most delicious form; nothing could quite beat the taste of coffee in the morning.

"Do you need anything else, sir? I'd be more than happy to get it for you..."

"No, thank you—" He checked her nametag. "—Tanisha. That will be all."

Another blinding smile and she walked off to tend to her other patrons, leaving Mojo Jojo to enjoy his drink. Alright then, that completed, the next item on his list was to unroll his newspaper, skim through the world news — _this_ article looked promising — and, there, morning officially complete. Relaxing back in his chair, enjoying the gentle breeze blowing through his fur, the pleasant warmth of the sun, he began reading.

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o O o

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The irony of this idyllic moment was not lost on him. Contrary to popular belief, Mojo was aware of the fact that not so long ago, his being here would have been met with any number of double takes, hostile glares, and muttered remarks. Directly to his face? Oh, no, not a soul in this miserable city was that brave. That would have been a homicide in the works. But having had to endure it, if only peripherally, he'd developed a knack for sensing Townsville's collective hatred aimed his way.

Not that he gave a damn, it was just irritating when the fur on the back of his neck stood on end for hours.

He... hadn't been able to exactly blame them for their reactions, of course. A known loner, who made his disdain for the citizens of Townsville quite clear, why in the world was self-proclaimed evil genius Mojo Jojo voluntarily spending free time in _their _lowly presence?

Mojo smirked to himself, somewhat bitterly. A complicated question with a pathetically simple answer...

He was lonely...

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o O o

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His musings were abruptly cut off when an ungodly screeching shattered the peaceful murmur of the morning. It was the iron legs of the chair across from him sliding against the pavement.

Someone was sitting at his table.

Oh, no. Actually, make that an _oh, hell no_. Easily brushed feelings of isolation aside, there was a limit to how much he could tolerate the Townies on any given day. Everyone at this point — _everyone_ — knew about the unspoken rule that whenever Mojo came to his favorite coffee shop, he had a table to himself, no matter how crowded it happened to be. He wasn't exactly giving off the most unfriendly of vibes, but he was making it pretty obvious that he thought of everyone else as background noise. He did not engage in idle chit chat, nor did he expect or particularly _want_ anyone to do the same for him. (Unless it happened to be the waiters or waitresses, whom he found to be pleasant and professional, but that was besides the point.)

He was on the verge of giving one of his famous all-fangs-bared tongue lashings when he started with such force that it knocked the table and upset the china.

Because the man sitting across from him was dressed head to toe in what looked like full cowboy regalia.

_Cosplayer, _Mojo thought an entirely stunned minute later. Because what _else _could he be?

Come to think of it... Yes, wasn't there a cosplaying community in Townsville? It made hell for the police, what with some of the crazier costumes some people wore. Made one hard to tell apart from a brand new villain or some regular Joe down the street having a blast in a skintight one piece. He'd had to death glare one poor soul into trembling putty the one time he'd seen them _dare _to wear his signature tunic, cape, and brain-cap like it was some kind of _joke_. Because, I mean, _come on. _If you're going to emulate someone as great as Mojo Jojo, don't use Dollar Store materials, put some damn effort into it!

This one, though... this one was not a joke. Detailed wasn't an apt enough description, to tell the truth. It was _beyond _movie budget quality. The costume was so _ostentatious_, the stitching so _intricate_. There were what looked like coils of cobras with scorpions in their mouths, tiny venomous spiders crawling along the bodies, spiraling up the arms of his overcoat, the legs of his chaps, his knee length boots, his vest, the brim of his hat — nearly everything on the man's person had one of the three somewhere on his clothes. It was so _over done _and, yet, at the same time, so damn gorgeous that you could forgive that.

It was also a noxious, _obnoxious _acid green set against black and silver.

Wait, looking closer, Mojo could see hints of sci-fi blending in seamlessly with the overall scheme, making it some sort of future western theme, he supposed. It really made it work, what with the colors and all. The only thing that kind of threw the whole thing off was instead of, say, the quintessential bank robber's mask around the throat, he appeared to have what looked like a ninja mask/shirt combo to keep the lower half of his face hidden, just as decorative as the rest of the get-up.

_A cyber-goth, cowboy-ninja that uses venom as an attack? _Mojo concluded, nonplussed.

What an utterly bizarre thing to witness on a Sunday at 8:17 a.m.

It was, additionally, too much for his notoriously low levels of patience.

"_WHAT DO YOU WANT?!_"

Nervous coughs and shuffles from the other customers had Mojo feeling a moment of petty satisfaction. _Still got it. _Emboldened, he leveled his best evil glare full force at the interloper, waiting for a response.

The man, who'd never moved once the entire time, never even blinked it felt like, seemed to go even more unnaturally still. And then—

"Are you Mojo Jojo?"

Mojo blinked owlishly. "What in the _world_—?"

"Ha ha! That was a joke! I know you're Mojo Jojo! _Duh! _" The cowboy shook his head, snickering to himself. "What kinda _idiot _wouldn't be able to recognize Mojo Jojo? You're only Townsville's number one super villain!" Another snicker that ended on a sigh, then he said, "So... whatcha doin' today? Anything exciting? Are you relaxing before you go on to blow up the city with your Robo Jojo 8000, mk. XIII? Because, man, back in the day — ha! That makes it sound like it was _soooo _long ago, not what, like, when the Powerpuff Girls were about, hmm, eight? Nine? And you were pretty short back then. You've had a growth spurt! What are you, 5'11" now? That's crazy! Anyway, back in the day, you used to go on a rampage, like, every other week! Not that I saw you doing so personally, I only moved in just about a month ago, but people would post videos of you online, and — man, lemme tell ya — I used to _devour _those things! I could watch 'em about a hundred times a day!

"You just — you just had this _thing_, you know? This _way_ about how you'd blow this place to smithereens. It was, like, inspiring. I knew some people — well, not really _knew_, but we chatted on forums and stuff... But yeah, we'd analyze those videos and — get _this_ — they'd try to copy you! Ha ha! Isn't that a riot? What a bunch of dumbasses! I'd see headlines of bank robberies or, like, stories about how some guy was attempting to break into government facilities and steal parts for a 'doomsday weapon' and, I knew they'd be copying you because you've got your own style when you go about doing that and it was so _obvious_ who they were copying. And, I mean, it didn't take much to put two and two together and figure out what happened. _Especially_ when I'd try to PM them and there wouldn't be replies for months, sometimes _years_! It was crazy! I wasn't like them though, I knew better than to try before I was ready.

"But, yeah... Recently I'd been thinking back on that stuff. About a few months back, actually, and I figured that I wasn't getting any younger, if you consider twenty-five to be old, so I made the decision to move up to the city of Townsville! Because I _finally _think that I'm ready to become a full-time villain! So, hi, Mojo Jojo! My name's Venomous Vaquero!"

He'd ended on such an enthusiastic note — that entire jumble of words had had what sounded like a year's worth of energy packed into it — made all the more disturbing that the man had, once again, looked like he'd moved _not even an inch throughout the tirade_.

Mojo Jojo felt his first faint prickling of unease...

But first, he had to pick his jaw up off the cement, because wow. Just... _wow_. That was a lot to unpack.

Mojo was aware of fans, particularly the nonsensical ones who preferred the villains over heroes. Hell, he even knew about the crazy, super fans. But then there were the _others_. The ones that took it to an entirely new level. The ones that made it... worse. He'd met Lenny Baxter in jail once. Once had been more than enough. Boy, if he thought sometimes _his _obsession with the Powerpuff Girls had been unhealthy, it had been nothing, _nothing _compared to that guy. The _intensity _in Baxter's eyes, the sheer, desperate _need _to possess that had radiated off him...

He felt some of that need being directed his way now. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"So," Venomous continued, still full of energy, still as a statue, "do you think I have a chance? _I _think I have a chance, I've been practicing—"

Mojo couldn't exactly help the snort of derision that burst out. "Practicing?"

"Yes, practicing!" Not offended by the interruption at all, perhaps even more charmed that Mojo was talking back. "I mean, it's hard. I couldn't exactly call attention to myself. My villain career would be over before it even started!"

"Uh-huh, yeah, that's nice. Now would you kindly remove yourself from my table—"

"I had something I wanted to try today, though. A lot more over the top than usual. I figured that I can't always stick to small time stuff, especially not in Townsville. You've gotta go big, or go bust, ya know? So I know I'm probably interrupting valuable city-destroying planning time, but I just wanted to ask for a few tips—"

Mojo held up a finger for silence, was mildly surprised when he immediately got it. "Let's get one thing straight. You keep mentioning me destroying Townsville as though I'm about to at any second. That's not going to happen. I'm _retired, _so get that notion out of your head. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, can you remove yourself from my table? I'm trying to drink the rest of my coffee before it gets too cold."

There it was again, that creepy inertness. Mojo felt his frown deepening and he made a tiny shooing motion with his free hand. "Go on now, off with you. Being retired doesn't mean that I'm not busy, you know."

Venomous' head suddenly darted forward, cobra quick. "Why are you talking like _that? _"

"_Excuse _me?"

"The way you're talking, it's... it's not right. It's _wrong_. That's not how you talk. It's _wrong!_"

Of all the god damn nerve! Who was this upstart to tell _Mojo Jojo _how to speak? "What are you talking about, you little—"

"When you speak, you do that thing, you know — the thing!" This was the most movement he'd seen from the man yet. His eyes were narrowing with irritation, blinking rapidly. They were a vivid yellow, with cat-slit pupils — no, obviously these were just contacts, nothing odd about that, right? And yet..." Your weird speech mannerism where you repeat yourself with similar words over and over in a roundabout way. _That's _the way you talk! Why aren't you talking like that?"

"Because it is an absurd way to speak! That is to say, it is a preposterous, ludicrous, and ultimately nonsensical style to converse with other beings in any type of intelligent way as I cannot get my point across in a coherent manner because I am too busy confusing them with a continuous, circuitous, circumlocutory method of articulating myself. It is why I no longer _do _so!" He stopped, realized what just happened, felt a snarl warping his face. "Or I _had _been! Curses, I was on a roll this time! Two entire months of progress wasted!"

Venomous looked positively giddy. It was sickening. "Yes! Yes! Like that! Like that! Now why'd you stop talking like that?"

"Because it's a silly habit that I felt I needed to break." There, he was done with the sentence. No more, no less.

"Awww, you stopped! Why?"

Mojo set his coffee down and stood up very slowly, very deliberately, taking advantage of his so-called "growth spurt." It had been nothing more than a by-product of his mutation, he'd posited; a more human mind came with a more human body. It certainly cast a satisfying sense of intimidation, that was for sure. Probably didn't help that he was in full uniform today either, cape blowing in a most sinister fashion. More than one customer were suddenly deciding to take their order to-go and booking it as fast as possible.

_Oh, yes, I still most certainly "got it." _

"I'm not... quite understanding why you feel you have the right to stick your business in _my _business," he murmured almost pleasantly, and if this man had any sense, he'd know that his life as fully mobile adult was on the line, "but I don't owe you _anything_. I would like for you to leave now."

The aggravating little nitwit had the audacity to _huff _at him, like Mojo was taking up _his _precious time. Every Townie in the vicinity sucked in a horrified breath. "I don't understand why you're getting so upset. I just wanted to talk to you."

Alright, one gruesome chimpanzee mauling coming right up. No one could fault Mojo for trying. He'd done his best. Townsville jail couldn't be as bad as he remembered.

He was one muscle twitch away from reaching over and throttling the idiot, when his waitress —_ Tanisha_, he recalled — stepped to the side of Venomous, serving tray held in front of her like a shield, and as firmly as she was able said, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Venomous turned his head to look at her — It wasn't right! It looked too _smooth_, too _alien_ for a human! — and nictitated, slow as a sunned lizard. "Do I have to pay to sit here?"

"N-No, you just need to leave. You're disturbing my customers." She kept pointedly glancing over at Mojo then back to him. Hint hint, nudge nudge.

Mojo swore when this was over, he was going to give this woman a thousand dollar tip.

The cowboy's entire demeanor went several shades colder and he honest-to-god _hissed _at her. She took a step back, eyes wide. "I don't really think that I want to—"

"Holy crap, dude!" A man sitting two tables over with his wife suddenly snapped. "_She _can't say it, but I can: _Screw! Off! _Mojo Jojo don't wanna talk to you! I mean, _hello _? Pretty freakin' obvious! Can you leave now? Some of us are trying to enjoy the rest of the day without you in it!"

"He's not lying, bruh," another man joined in. "Just, like, go be a _villain _somewhere else. Stop bothering Mojo. You're bothering _us _with that."

"Yeah, I'm trying to relax a little before my shift, just like I'm sure Mojo would like his morning to not be bothered by some crazy fanboy." The woman who'd just spoken glared at Venomous. "Please leave him alone."

"You're being hella creepy, man."

"_Right_? Can't he catch a hint?"

"This city just drags in all the weirdos, huh?"

"Seriously, _leave him alone_..."

Were his ears deceiving him, or were the citizens of Townsville actually _defending _him? Clearly he'd stepped into a parallel dimension this morning, he marveled, because this was one of the strangest days he'd had in a _long _time. It wasn't even past noon yet. What other wonders could this day possibly hold in store for him?

"No, but honestly," the first man spoke up again, "you need to grow up. What the hell are ya doing with yourself? A villain? Seriously? You got the look down right, but do you even know what you're doin'? This is the home of the Powerpuff Girls. You know, the _Powerpuff Girls_? The _superheroines _who can fly here in practically a second flat? Kick yer _ass _in a second flat? What are you gonna do when they show up?"

"Beat them."

Stated so simply, so confidently. For a second, they almost believed him. Then the group looked at each other and collectively broke into derisive grins. Some of them snickered into their coffees.

"Oh, uh, alright." The man threw a thumb over his shoulder at Venomous in disbelief and made a face. "But, hold on, if — and I mean no disrespect Mojo, so please don't get mad at me — if_ Mojo Jojo _, one of our _greatest _super villains couldn't defeat the Powerpuff Girls time and time again and, believe me, he got _real _freakin' close a few times, what makes _you _so special? How are _you _going to beat them?"

The group murmured in assent, almost sounding _proud _of Mojo, as if the quality of their supervillains was a trait that every city should quantify. Yep, this was surreal. Parallel dimension. The only explanation Mojo would accept from this point forward.

"I don't know," Venomous said stiffly, "but I will. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to show Mojo Jojo what I can do, because he was the only one I was talking to in the first place. You people are _rude_."

He stood up suddenly, making several people jump, and began walking across the four-way street towards Townsville's First National Bank. As casual as if he were out on a stroll.

"Holy shit... he's really doing it!"

"Say, whaaaaat?"

"This guy's got a death wish!"

"Can he actually even _do _anything?"

"Hold on, lemme get my phone, I am_ so _filming this…"

"Dinner and a show!"

"Wouldn't it be breakfast and a show, technically?"

"Aww, shut up…"

Mojo let the Townie's chatter fade into the back of his mind, watching his latest source of irritation make the walk to the entrance. He was genuinely curious to see what would unfold, in a morbid sort of way. He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. Maybe Venomous Vaquero would wind up being a competent villain and get away with millions. Or maybe he'd get pummeled into an early grave when the Girls inevitably showed up, because comic books influenced his childhood a tad too much. Either way, they were most definitely going to get "a show", as it had been put.

Though Mojo had to admit that the man certainly cut an imposing figure now that he wasn't crouched behind a dainty little coffee table. Had to be at least 6'6", very fit, trim build. That ankle-length coat looked incredibly dramatic flowing behind him. His heavy boots landing solidly on the concrete with every step and yeah, okay, goofy as it looked, the spurs _did _sound ominous. Passerby saw him coming and, recognizing a potential threat, made to move out of his way, trying not to make eye contact. Huh, not too shabby — for a newbie.

The bank manager was standing at the glass doors, warily poised to either run or start her work day, as only one born into this city could experience. "Um, c-c-can I help you, sir? We don't open for another twenty-five minutes…"

He stopped on the sidewalk, poised in front of the building. Pushing aside the folds of his jacket, Venomous reached at his waist and pulled out what roughly looked like a steel cylinder. "I need you to move." He narrowed those piercing eyes when she froze, not sure. "_Now! _"

The woman didn't need to be told twice. She ran as quick as she could in heels, already making a call to her superiors.

He struck not a second after.

It happened almost too fast for Mojo to catch. One moment, the normal everyday hum of city life was buzzing in his ears. The next, a hideous, bowel-loosening _CRAAACK _echoed for what sounded like _miles, _a burst of wind following immediately after. Crowds of people slapped hands to their ears, screaming; cars slammed on their brakes, causing multitudes of fender-benders and insurance nightmares; animals were whipped into pandemonium. It was sheer, absolute, total _chaos. _

And it was _beautiful_. Mojo _might _have squealed a tiny bit.

The sound petered out. Mojo's group of Townies, who'd ducked beneath their tables, slowly rose to their feet, visibly shaken. The cowboy stood there untouched, appearing for all the world as if he was in a stand-off with a building.

"B-B-But... nothing h-happened," piped up the same man, pale as a ghost. He helped his wife to her feet. "Look, he didn't d-do anything—"

Venomous held up a hand, cutting the man off mid-sentence, then leapt backwards a good fifteen feet. There was an ominous moment of silence. Then, the _entire _façade of Townsville's First National Bank fell forward like the world's largest domino, sending up a plume of dust and debris. Jaws dropped; Mojo gave a _very _enthusiastic slurp of his coffee.

Amidst the fog, Venomous Vaquero glanced back over his shoulder at the chimp, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"_Ha! _See? Practice makes perfect!"


End file.
